Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Norsemen in the West
Chapter Twenty One.
Reinforcements Sent off to Karlsefin—Foes Discovered in the Woods—A Night Attack, and other Warlike Matters
We must return now for a little to the settlement of the Norsemen, which, by the way, had by this time come to be called by the name of Leifsgaard.
Here, from Thorward’s house, there issued tones which indicated the existence of what is popularly known as a “breeze.” Human breezes are usually irregular, and blow after the manner of counter-currents; but in Thorward’s habitation the breezes almost invariably blew in one direction, and always issued from the lungs of Freydissa, who possessed a peculiar knack of keeping and enjoying all the breeze to herself, some passive creature being the butt against which it impinged.
On the present occasion that butt was Bertha. Indeed, Bertha was a species of practising-butt, at which Freydissa exercised herself when all other butts failed, or when she had nothing better to do.
“Don’t say to me that you can’t help it!” she cried, in her own amiably shrill tones. “You can help it well enough if you choose. You are always at it, morning, noon, and night; I’m quite sick of you, girl; I’m sorry I brought you here; I’d send you back to Greenland to-morrow if I could. If the ship sank with you on the passage, I’d rejoice—I would! There! don’t say it again, now; you’re going to—I can see that by your whimpering look. Don’t say you can’t help it. Don’t! don’t! Do you hear?”
“Indeed, indeed I can’t—”
“There! I knew you would,” shrieked Freydissa, as she raised herself from the wash-tub in which she had been manipulating some articles of clothing as if she were tearing Bertha to pieces— “why can’t you?”
“It isn’t easy to help weeping,” whimpered Bertha, as she continued to drive her spinning-wheel, “when one thinks of all that has passed, and poor—”
“Weeping! weeping!” cried Freydissa, diving again into the tub; “do you call that weeping? I call it downright blubbering. Why, your face is as much begrutten as if you were a mere baby.”
This was true, for what between her grief at the sudden disappearance of Olaf and Snorro, and the ceaseless assaults of her mistress, who was uncommonly cross that morning, Bertha’s pretty little face was indeed a good deal swelled and inflamed about the eyes and cheeks. She again took refuge in silence, but this made no difference to Freydissa, or rather it acted, if anything, as a provocative of wrath. “Speak, you hussy!” was usually her irate manner of driving the helpless little handmaid out of that refuge.
“What were you going to say? Poor what?” she asked sharply, after a few minutes’ silence.
“I was going to say that poor Snorro and—”
“Oh! it’s all very well to talk of poor Snorro,” interrupted her mistress; “you know quite well that you took to snivelling long before Snorro was lost. You’re thinking of Hake, you are. You know you are, and you daren’t deny it, for your red face would give you the lie if you did. Hake indeed! Even though he is a thrall, he’s too good for such a silly thing as you. There, be off with you till you can stop your weeping, as you call it. Go!”
Freydissa enforced her command by sending a mass of soapy cloth which she had just wrung out after the retreating Bertha. Fortunately she was a bad shot. The missile flew past its intended object, and, hitting a hen, which had ventured to intrude, on the legs, swept it with a terrific cackle into the road, to the amazement, not to say horror, of the cock and chickens.
As Bertha disappeared Biarne entered the room— “Hallo! Freydissa, stormy weather—eh?”
“You can go outside and see for yourself,” answered Freydissa angrily.
“So I mean to,” returned Biarne, with a smile, “for the weather is pleasanter outside than in; but I must first presume to put the question that brought me here. Do you chance to know where Leif is this morning?”
“How should I know?”
“By having become acquainted with the facts of the case somehow,” suggested Biarne.
“Well, then, I don’t know; so you can go study the weather.”
“Oho! mistress: I see that it is time we sent to Iceland for another cat!”
This allusion to her husband’s former treatment of her pet was almost the only thing that could calm—or at least restrain—the storm! Freydissa bit her lips and flushed as she went on with her washing, but she said nothing more.
“Well, good-morning,” said Biarne as he left the house to search for Leif.
He found him busily engaged in executing some repairs on board the “Snake.”
“I have a thought in my head,” said Biarne.
“Out with it then,” replied Leif, wiping his brow, “because thoughts, if kept long in the brain, are apt to hatch, and the chicken-thoughts are prone to run away at the moment of birth, and men have a tendency to chase the chickens, to the utter forgetting of the original hens! What is thy thought, Biarne?”
“That I should take as many of the men as you can spare,” he replied, “and go off by water to reinforce Karlsefin.”
“That is strange,” said Leif. “I sometimes think that there must be a mysterious influence which passes between mind and mind. The very same thought came into my head this morning when I was at work on this oar, and I had intended to talk with you on the subject. But why do you think this course of action needful?”
“Just because the party of savages may turn out to be larger than we imagined, or they may be joined by others, and it has occurred to me that the force which is out with Karlsefin is barely sufficient to make a good stand against heavy odds. With a small party heavy odds against you is a serious matter; but with a large party heavy odds on the side of the enemy makes little weight—unless, indeed, their men are willing to come on and be killed in large numbers, which my experience of savages assures me that they are never willing to do.”
“Your reasons, Biarne, are very much the same as my own; therefore, being of one mind, we shall go about the business without delay, for if our aid is to reach them at all it must be extended at once. Go, then, select and collect your men; I will be content to guard the place with the half of those that are now here; and make haste, Biarne, the more I think of it the more I fear delay.”
Biarne was not slow to act. In a remarkably brief space of time he had selected his men, prepared the canoes, loaded them with arms and food, and got everything ready; so that before the afternoon had far advanced he was enabled to set off with four canoes and thirty-two men.
Meanwhile Leif had set those that remained to complete a small central point of defence—a sort of fortalice—which had been for some time in preparation as a last refuge for the colonists in the event of their ever being attacked by overwhelming numbers.
Karlsefin had long seen the propriety of building some such stronghold; but the friendly relations that had existed for a considerable period between the Norsemen and the natives had induced him to suspend building operations, until several annoying misunderstandings and threats on the part of the savages had induced him to resume the work. At the time of which we write it was almost completed.
This fortress was little more than a strong palisade of stout planks about twelve feet high, placed close together, with narrow slits on every side for the discharge of arrows, and a platform all round the top inside, on which men could stand to repel an assault or discharge stones and other missiles over the wall. But the chief strength of the place lay in its foundation, which was the summit of a small isolated rocky mound in the centre of the hamlet. The mound was not more than thirty feet high, but its sides were so steep that the top could not be reached without difficulty, and its area was so small that the little fortification embraced the whole of it. It was large enough, however, to contain the whole population of the place, exclusive of the cattle.
To the completion, then, of this place of refuge, Leif addressed himself with all the energy of his nature. A large shed was erected in one corner of it, with a strong plank roof, to protect the women from stones, arrows, and javelins, which were the only projectiles in vogue at that period of the world’s history. Another shed was built just under the fortalice, on the lake side, for the safe housing of the live stock. Arrows were made in great numbers by some of the men, while others gathered and stored an immense supply of heavy ammunition in the shape of stones. Besides this a large quantity of dried provisions was stored in the women’s shed, also a supply of water; but in regard to the last, being near the lake, and within easy bow-shot of their vessel, they trusted to bold night-sallies for additional supplies of the indispensable fluid. Finally, the work was carried on with such vigour that eight days after Biarne’s departure it was finished.
Finished—and not a moment too soon! At the time when Biarne started on his voyage, the woods were, unknown to the Norsemen, alive with savages. Fortunately these had not observed the departure of the canoes, the whole of them being engaged at the time deep within the woods, holding a council of war, in which it was resolved to attack the white invaders of their land, kill them all, and appropriate their property.
Leif committed a slight mistake in not sending out scouts at this time to guard against surprise, but he was so eager to have the works completed that he grudged sending away any of his small body of men.
On the day when everything had been got ready, he sent a man named Hengler, who was an expert bowman, to procure some venison. In less than an hour Hengler was seen running towards the hamlet at break-neck speed, with his eyes almost starting out of his head, his hair streaming in the breeze, and two savages close on his heels.
“To arms, men!” shouted Leif, as he snatched up a bow, and, without waiting to put on helmet or sword, ran out to meet Hengler.
Seeing this, the savages stopped, hastily fitted arrows to their bowstrings and discharged them, the one at Hengler, the other at Leif. The first just grazed the flying Norseman’s ear; the other fell short, but before a second discharge was possible Leif had sent an arrow whizzing at the first savage. It pierced his thigh. Uttering a fierce yell, he plucked the shaft out of the wound, and turning round fled back to the woods followed by his companion.
“Not a moment to lose,” gasped Hengler, as he ran into the hamlet. “There are hundreds of them everywhere.”
“Coming towards us?” asked Leif.
“Not when I saw them, but doubtless when these two return they will come down like a mountain foss.”
“Quick, get into the fort, lads!—Stay, Hengler, assist me with the women.”
“Do you think they really mean to attack us?” asked Gudrid, who, with Bertha and Freydissa, came forward at the moment.
“Assuredly they do,” answered Leif; “come, follow Hengler to the fort. Whatever they intended before, the arrow in that fellow’s leg will settle the question. Where are Thora and Astrid?”
“In the dairy,” replied Gudrid.
“Away, then; I go to fetch them.”
“Would that I were a man!” exclaimed Freydissa, catching up a spear and shaking it as she strode along with the rest. “I’d teach them to think twice before coming here to disturb peaceable folk!”
“Peaceable,” thought Leif, with a grim smile, as he hurried towards the dairy; but he said nothing, for he deemed that to be a time for silence and action.
In a few minutes nearly all the population of the place had taken refuge in the fort, and soon afterwards the livestock was driven into the shed beside the rock. The gate was then shut and the men mounted the battlements, or breastwork, to watch for the expected foe.
But no foe made his appearance. Hour after hour passed away; the sun descended behind the tree-tops and below the horizon; the grey mantle of evening overspread the scene; still the watchers stood on the battlements and gazed intently into the forest—still there was not the slightest sound or symptom of an enemy in the vast sleeping wilderness.
“Now this is passing strange,” observed Hengler, who had been appointed second in command, and stood beside Leif.
“Not so strange as ye suppose,” replied Leif. “Many a time have I fought with men in the mountains of Norway and on the plains of Valland, and invariably have I found that a surprise is never attempted save in the night.”
“True,” returned Hengler, “but when a very strong foe stands before a very weak one, it seems to me childish to delay the assault.”
“Thine ignorance of war must be great, Hengler,” returned Leif, regarding the man with a smile, “if thou hast yet to learn that a body of men weak in numbers becomes passing strong when posted behind good walls, with plenty of missiles and provender.”
“My knowledge of war is not great,” said the man, who was quite a youth, “but methinks it is like to improve now.”
“I fear it is,” returned Leif sadly, “but now I will give thee a job to perform that is necessary. From my experience of such matters I feel well assured that the savages intend an assault during the night, when they doubtless expect that their numbers will more easily cope with and overcome us; but in my judgment it is likely that they understand nothing of this fort-work, therefore I shall give them a surprise, instead of receiving one at their hands. Go thou, then, with six of the most active among the men, and slip as quietly as may be into the forest; gather there as many pine cones as shall fill your shields to overflowing, and bring them hither, along with a quantity of birch bark. If ye are attacked fight your way back, and we will cover your retreat from the ramparts.”
While Hengler and six men were absent on this duty, another small party was sent to fetch into the fort a log about eighteen feet long, which lay on the ground close at hand; at the same time they were ordered to run down to the lake and bring up three or four old planks which had lain for a long time in the water, and were quite sodden. These things were all secured and carried into the fortress in the course of a few minutes. The log was then set up on end and sunk deep into a hole in the ground, so that it remained standing in the centre of the fort with the top just reaching a little above the walls. Pegs were driven into it all the way up, so that a man could easily ascend it. On the top of this pole was affixed a platform made of the soaked planks, about six feet square, with a hole left near the head of the pole through which a man could thrust himself. These Norsemen were smart in using their hands and axes. The contrivance which we have taken so long to describe was erected in a very few minutes. It was well-nigh completed when Hengler and his party returned with the pine cones and birch bark, both of which substances are exceedingly resinous and inflammable. Leif made the men carry them to the top of the pole, and pile them on the platform. He then ordered a small fire to be kindled in a corner of the fort, but to be kept very low and small, so that the tiny wreath of smoke which arose from it might be dissipated before it reached the battlements. After that he called all the men to him.
“Now, my lads,” said he, “it is likely that these savages will try to take us by surprise. This they will not find it easy to do. From what I know of them they will come like the fox—slily—and try to pounce upon us. We will let them come; we will let them pounce, and not show face until such time as I give the word—then ye will know how to quit you like men. Away, all of you, to rest—each man with his shield above him and his sword by his side. I myself will do the part of sentinel.”
The men quietly obeyed this order. Leif did not think it necessary to say more to them, but to Hengler and two others who had been selected as leaders he revealed more minutely the intended plan of action before they lay down.
Leaving Hengler for a few minutes to guard the walls, he entered the shed where the women were seated.
“You must keep well under cover, Gudrid,” he said, “for it is likely that these fellows will shower some arrows upon us—perhaps something heavier; but we are well prepared to receive them.”
“Are our enemies numerous?” asked Gudrid anxiously.
“So it is said, but that will do them little service so long as we are behind these walls.”
“I wish I had my fingers in their chief’s hair!” muttered Freydissa between her teeth.
“I echo the wish you expressed not long ago,” said Leif laughing. “Would that thou wert a man, Freydissa, for assuredly a spirit like thine is invaluable on the field of battle.”
“Thankful am I that there are other fields besides battle-fields where women may be useful,” observed Bertha, who was seated on a box beside Astrid, with her arm round her waist.
Freydissa merely cast on her handmaid a look of scorn, for she was aware that neither the time nor place was suited to the exercise of her peculiar talents.
“I just looked in to assure you that all goes well,” said Leif, addressing the women generally, “and that you have nothing to fear.”
“We fear nothing!” said Freydissa, answering for the rest.
The somewhat flippant remark, “Speak for yourself,” might have been appropriately made by some of her sisterhood, but they were all too anxious about the impending danger to heed what she said.
When Leif rejoined Hengler on the walls, the shades of night had fallen on the forest. He advised his lieutenant to lie down, but Hengler begged and obtained permission to share his vigil.
There was no moon that night, and it became extremely dark—just such a night as was suited to the purpose of the natives. Leif stood motionless, like a statue, leaning on his spear. His man sat on the rampart; both gazed and listened with painful intensity.
At last Leif pointed to what appeared to be a moving object on the space of cleared ground that intervened between the slight wall of the hamlet and the edge of the forest.
“Awake the men,” he whispered, “and let not a sound of voice or clank of sword be heard.”
Hengler made no reply, but glided silently away. One by one the men came up with the light tread of cats, and manned the walls, keeping well under cover of the parapet—each taking his appointed station beside his particular pile of stones and sheaf of arrows, which lay on the platform, while below a man with a bow was stationed at every slit.
Suddenly there arose on the night air a yell so fierce, so prolonged, and so peculiar, that it made even the stout hearts of the Norsemen quail for a moment—it was so unearthly, and so unlike any war-cry they had ever before heard. Again and again it was repeated, then a rushing sound was heard, and hundreds of dark objects were indistinctly seen leaping over the slight wall of felled trees that surrounded the hamlet.
With furious shouts the savages surrounded the houses, burst open the doors, and rushed in; but they rushed out again almost immediately, and their yells were exchanged for exclamations of surprise as they went about searching in the dark for their concealed enemies. Of course they came to the rock-fortress almost immediately after, and another war-cry was uttered as they surrounded the place in hundreds, but as there was still no sound or appearance of their expected foe, they became suddenly silent, as if under the impression that there was something mysterious in the affair which was not in accordance with their past experiences.
They nevertheless clambered to the top of the rock, and began to feel round the bottom of the wooden palisades for a door.
At that moment, while they were clustering thick as bees round the base of the building, Leif gave a preconcerted signal. One of the men applied a light to the pile of bark and fir-cones, and a bright flash of flame shot upward as Leif said,—“Up, lads!” in deep stern tones.
Instantly a shower of heavy stones descended on the pates of the savages, who rolled down the steep sides of the mound with shrieks and cries and yells very different indeed from those which had characterised their assault. From all directions the savages now concentrated on the fortress. At the same time the fire suddenly shot up with such a glare that the whole scene was made nearly as light as day, and from the parapets and every loop-hole of the fortress a very hail of arrows poured forth into the midst of them, while their own shafts either quivered in the palisade or fell harmless from the shields and helmets of the Norsemen.
Even in that hour of extreme danger, Leif’s desire to spare life, with a view to future proposals of peace, was exemplified in his ordering the men to draw their bows slightly, so as to wound without killing, as much as possible, and to aim as well as they could at the legs of the foe! One result of this was, that the wounded men were soon very numerous, and, as they fled away, filled the woods with such howls of agony that their still unhurt comrades were more alarmed than they would probably have been if the ground had been strewn with the dead.
At this point a vigorous sally from the fortress, and a deep-toned Norse cheer, settled the question for the time being. The entire army of dark-skinned warriors turned and fled into its native wilderness!
There was not, it may be well to remark here, so much danger in this sally as we moderns might suppose, for, even though the savages had not run, but had faced and surrounded their enemy, these Norsemen, with their massive limbs, sweeping swords, large shields, and defensive armour, could have cut their way back again to the fort through hundreds of such half-naked foes.
Of course Leif had expected them to fly, and had no intention of retiring immediately to the fort. He merely went the length of the outer wall, and then, with half of his men, kept up a vigorous shouting to expedite the flight of the foe, while the other half picked up as many arrows as they could find. Leif was glad to learn, on returning to the fort, that only two dead men had been discovered on the ground.
But the savages had not given in by any means, as became pretty clear from the noise they made in the woods soon afterwards. This continued all night, and Leif ordered the fire to be extinguished, lest they should be tempted by its light to send a flight of arrows among them, which might wound some of his people when off their guard.
When the first grey light of dawn appeared, it became evident to the beleaguered Norsemen what the savages had been about. Not very far from the fortress an enormous pile of dry timber had been raised, and, although it was within easy bow-shot, the savages managed, by dodging from tree to tree, to get under its shelter with fresh logs on their shoulders, and thus increased the pile continually.
“They mean to burn us out!” exclaimed Hengler anxiously.
“Rather to smoke us out,” observed one of the men. “Fire can never reach us from that distance.”
Leif, who was very grave, shook his head and said:—
“If they make the pile very big it may reach us well enough. They have plenty of hands and no lack of wood. See, they are piling it to windward. God grant that the breeze may not increase, else shall we have to forsake the fortress. Nevertheless our good ship is at hand,” he added, in a more cheerful tone, “and they will find us tough to deal with when we get upon the water.—Come, lads, we will at all events harass if we cannot stop them.”
So saying, Leif ordered the men to keep up a constant discharge of arrows whenever they obtained a glimpse of the savages, and he himself headed a sally and drove them back to the woods. But as soon as he and his men had returned to the fortress, out came the savages again like a swarm of bees, and continued their work vigorously.
Thus the morning passed away, and the pile of the intended bonfire, despite the arrows and the frequent sallies of the Norsemen, continued slowly but steadily to grow.
